


The Adventure Of Mr. Albert Stevens, Murderer

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [27]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Army, Corruption, Execution, F/M, Justice, M/M, Murder, Revenge, Slow Burn, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15109562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: A man is about to be hanged for a murder that he did not commit – but he did kill two other people and there is no evidence against him for those crimes. Mr. Sherlock Holmes once again puts justice before the  law, and those in authority once again put themselves above both of them.





	The Adventure Of Mr. Albert Stevens, Murderer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookworm4ever81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm4ever81/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

This adventure took place shortly after the case later published as _”The Adventure Of The Resident Patient”_. My brother Sherlock considered Mr. Bert Stevens one of his failures but I myself think it was a good example of a theme that runs through so much of his work in that he pursued both justice and the law, but always chose justice if forced to choose between the two. It was also something of a revelation for Watson, who was forced to accept that to obtain justice one sometimes has to use means other than strictly legal ones. And a marginal correction to the good doctor's notes: he was truthful in saying that _he_ did not purchase anything at Kenton's. He did however 'allow' my brother to buy him his favourite assortment. All that being around the criminal classes seems to have given him rather too much in the way of sophistry!

Kean says that if I am using long words like 'sophistry', then he needs to pay more attention to me. How incontrovertibly, unquestionably, unequivocally true!

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D._

Of all the cases that Holmes and I undertook, there were were many where his resolution did not precisely adhere to the letter of English law (by a large distance in some cases!). But as he himself often said he was an agent of justice first and the law second, and if the two clashed he would always choose justice. Few cases demonstrated this thinking better than that of Mr. Albert Stevens, a man who went to the gallows for a crime that he did not commit yet was surely as guilty as sin. Naturally I could not publish this case at the time since the actions of Holmes (and to an extent myself) were technically unlawful. I only ask that the reader empathizes with us and considers what they would have done in a similar impossible situation. Justice and the law are not always bedfellows, and the country needs agents of both to keep it true and righteous.

It was early March and I was feeling depressed by the late winter weather. Holmes was also down as he had been conducting one of his infernal scientific experiments in recent days, and it had not turned out as planned (if the bright blue stain on the ceiling was anything to go by; poor Mrs. Hudson would soon be turning to drink if that sort of thing went on much longer). I was therefore pleased when the visitor who was announced during my visit turned out to be Inspector Lestrade. Who also looked as miserable as sin. Honestly! 

“Something is troubling you, Lestrade”, Holmes observed. 

The heavy-set policeman looked up ruefully from his coffee. 

“It's the Stevens case”, he admitted. “The man goes to the gallows on Friday and.... damn it, my gut says he's innocent even though I _know_ he's guilty!”

Holmes cut the man a slice of cake – his favourite, coffee cream - and placed it on the table next to him. He did not immediately start devouring it. Lord, this _was_ serious!

“I think that you had better start at the beginning”, my friend smiled. “I recall Watson reading the article to me from the paper, but I dare say that viewing it without the distorting prism of the very average London journalist may throw a whole new light on the affair.”

Lestrade sighed heavily.

“It goes back to the end of last year and the case of Major Paddy Stevens”, he began. “He was in the Buffs, serving out in Malaya, ghastly place. There was an attack by some local tribesmen and he was one of the men captured. His men got him back but there was a suggestion, fanned by a statement from one of his captors, that he had been instrumental in arranging the attack.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” I asked. “What motive could he possibly have had?”

“It made no sense”, Lestrade said. “He was coming up to retirement and the regiment was almost at the end of its service there; besides which army rules meant that he could not be sent out to that part of the world again, or abroad for that matter. The man who made the allegations against him was one of his own men, a Sergeant Sean Mallow. Stevens was court-martialed, found guilty – to the surprise of many in the Army - and cashiered.”

“I take it that there is more?” Holmes asked. Lestrade nodded.

“It came out later that the court was likely rigged”, he said. “One of the three judges or whatever they call them was Colonel Seamus Mallow, the accuser's father; he pulled a few strings to get himself chosen. It also came out that Sean Mallow was up for promotion against Major Stevens' own son Albert, a sergeant in the same regiment. The charge ruined Albert Stevens' chances; he resigned from the army and accompanied his father home. Bert Stevens was at the court and swore that he would have justice - _one way or another!”_

“I remember seeing the sketches in the newspaper”, I said. “I did not think that Mr. Stevens looked old enough to even be in the army.”

The inspector sighed.

“That is part of the problem, given what happened next”, he said. “To look at him you wouldn't think Bert Stevens would say a mild oath in a Sunday School class. But I've known several baby-faced murderers in my time as a copper, and they takes full advantage of the looks the Good Lord gave them for some bad ends.”

I swallowed. This sounded ominous. The inspector continued.

“Apart from the elder Mallow, the two other judges were also colonels, Eustace Sackburgh and William Chancellor. The Buffs got back to England early last September, the twentieth to be exact, and two days after that Colonel Mallow was shot dead in his own house. No-one linked it to the court-martial at the time – until two days later, when Colonel Sackburgh was shot too. In both cases a sprig of lavender, the symbol of the Buffs, was left next to the dead body.”

“That seems a bit too obvious”, I said. Lestrade nodded.

“Naturally we suspected the man, but getting a case against him proved all but impossible. He didn't have alibis for the times of the two murders but he had been clever; no-one had seen him enter or leave the buildings, and although we checked all the guns at his house none had been fired recently.”

“Unless he was hiding the actual murder weapon”, I said. 

“Then on Saturday the thirtieth of September we got lucky”, Lestrade continued. “Or luckier than Colonel Chancellor, who went the same way as his fellow judges. Again the lavender, but this time we found something else – a button underneath the dead body. Better still, the colonel's house is almost opposite the local pub, and two of the area's coppers were outside having lunch. They saw someone come out of the grounds next door, but when they later questioned the owners they were told that no-one had called at the house.”

“Why next door?” I wondered.

“There's a low wall dividing the two properties”, Lestrade explained, “and there's even an unlocked gate in it. Presumably Stevens used that way in in case he was spotted entering the colonel's house. His bad luck and our good that we had some men on the spot. Even so it was a close run thing at the trial; the jury hummed and hawed for a good ten days before finding him guilty.”

Holmes thought for a moment.

“Was Stevens questioned over the first two murders?” he asked.

“He was”, Lestrade said. “Mallow's house is in the same street at his fellow colonel's and it was one of the constables who found the body who questioned him. Prescott, I think his name is, and the other one is Beckett. Sackburgh lived in Essex, somewhere rural.”

I wondered at that. Why not kill the two colonels living next to each other at the same time but go all the way to Essex and back in between?

“A button and a distant sighting do not seem much to hang a man by”, Holmes observed. Lestrade grinned.

“When they took him in for questioning a second time, Stevens had a button missing from his shirt”, he said. “Not only that, but the buttons had been tailored with the design of a sprig of lavender. They were regimental issue, very rare. And again, he had no alibi. Saturday was the day he always went fishing alone down the canal and no-one saw him.”

Holmes frowned.

“I do not see the problem”, he said. Lestrade sighed.

“Three things”, he said. “First, I was there when Stevens denied murdering Colonel Chancellor. I've been in the game long enough to have a sense of when someone's lying, and my gut says that he was telling the truth on this one, though I do think he's guilty of the first two. Then there's Colonel Chancellor's daughter Miss Penelope.”

“What of her?” I asked.

“We questioned her as a matter of course”, he said, “and nothing came of it. But after the verdict she asked to see me again. Amongst the things left her by her father had been a letter which she had just found, and it opened up a whole new can of worms. Her father had wanted to find Colonel Stevens innocent but had been outvoted. Courts-martial do not say whether the decisions they reach are unanimous or majority, but she said her father had written to Stevens immediately after the hearing. I challenged him on this when I met him yesterday, and he not only admitted that he had received the letter but told me where the key to the drawer in his father's writing-desk was kept so I could see it for myself. I did, and there it was.”

I saw quickly what that meant. Albert Stevens would had had no motive to kill the third member of the court. Unless something had happened to change his mind on his return from Essex?

“Is there another reason for your suspicions apart from your gut?” Holmes asked.

“Yes”, Lestrade admitted. “The first two deaths were long-distance shootings across a room; in both cases there was no-one in the house close enough to hear the shots. But Colonel Chancellor was shot close-up with the gun held right against his chest. True, the house had servants and people in it but the difference between the two methods... it worries me.”

“Who benefits from the three deaths?” I asked.

“You're thinking killing two to cover a third murder, aren't you?” Lestrade said. “Hiding a leaf in a forest; it's an oldie but it does happen. Mallow owned a considerable estate which all goes to his son Sean; after the Malay business he decided to buy himself out of the army and live off the fat of the land. He is a right nasty piece of work in my opinion, and he has no alibi for the first two killings. And when he was questioned after the third one he said that he had been out shooting that morning, so of course he would have had gunshot residue on his hands. Too convenient for my liking.”

“Colonel Sackburgh had no children or brothers, so his estate was divided equally amongst charities and five distant cousins; the most any of them got was a few hundred. There is a trust fund for his widow but she can only take the income; she has no access to the capital. Colonel Chancellor is the most interesting, and I only know this because the solicitor contacted the local police as soon as he saw the verdict. The colonel made a will dividing his property equally between his son Darius and his daughter – and he didn't tell them. They both thought it would all go to the son and that he might be expected to provide for his sister 'out of the goodness of his heart'. Darius Chancellor is a bit of a rake and has large debts, which he probably thought his father's death would enable him to wriggle out of.”

“Is the estate large?” Holmes asked. 

“Even if he had inherited the lot, probably not enough to support him for more than a few years with his record”, Lestrade sniffed. “This is all off the record, of course. The reading of the will is next week; I would love to be there to see their faces!”

“You can rely on our discretion”, Holmes said. “The case seems quite straightforward.”

Lestrade stared at him in surprise.

“You think that Stevens _did_ kill Colonel Chancellor?” he asked.

“I think that your gut feeling is, as so often, quite accurate”, Holmes smiled. “But we have less than seventy-two hours until Mr. Stevens meets his maker and has to account for his actions in the one court that can never be rigged. We must move quickly. Doctor, can you be free this afternoon?”

“I promised Constance I would pick her up a box of chocolates from that shop in the Strand”, I said. “If we might go via there....”

“Of course”, he smiled. “Kenton's, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“I happen to know that they deliver”, he said. “If you pick out something for her, I shall pay for the delivery in return for your company in Surrey. Lestrade, you should call round tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully I shall have something to tell you.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

After visiting the chocolate shop – incredibly I managed to resist buying anything for myself this time, remembering more than one patient's remarks about my expanding waistline – we continued on to Mortlake. The two colonels had lived in a quieter part of the town where the houses were notably larger. The pub in the area appeared to be doing a roaring trade, although the recent shower had cleared the outside benches. 

Holmes went inside and ordered a late lunch and we were soon ensconced on an outside table with food and beer.

“I wonder at one thing”, I said, picking over an indifferent shepherd's pie.

“What?” he asked.

“Why did Stevens kill here, go all the way to Essex, then come back and kill here again?” I said. He could have dispatched the Essex target, and then struck at both targets here, or _vice versa_. We passed the other colonel's house only up the street, after all.”

He looked at me.

“That is a most excellent observation”, he said. “There is also the rather larger delay between the second and third killing as opposed to that between the first and second. I consider that to be important.”

We had finished our food when two police constables passed us and went into the pub, then came out with their own meals and drinks. One was blond and rather reedy whilst the other was dark, shorter and frowned a lot. The blond policeman had his right arm in a sling which made eating difficult, I noted.

Holmes said nothing until we had finished our drinks, and did not seem inclined to leave. Eventually the two policemen left and the barmaid came out to clear their table.

“One of your local policemen is injured, I see”, Holmes observed conversationally.

She turned and eyed him critically. The woman (I shall not disparage the term 'lady' by applying it to the likes of her) was at least ten years older than him and getting on for twice the body weight, but she was still eyeing him like he would make a tasty meal.

“That's our Mark Beckett”, she said. “He got that dealing with a burglary last month; fell down a fire-exit, would you believe? Should be out of it by next week.”

“All in the line of duty”, Holmes smiled. 

“You just down here for the day?” she asked. “'Cause we have... rooms, you know.”

She was quite clearly offering much more than just a room. I snapped.

“We are heading off now”, I said, a little too forcibly as I stood up. Holmes looked surprised but followed me away from the pub, even as I all but ran to the roadside to hail a cab.

“Are we done here, doctor?” he asked quietly.

I blushed.

“I just wanted to get away from her and those come-hither eyes”, I said, a little petulantly. “Her sort are only after one thing!”

He smiled, but fortunately changed the subject.

“Fortunately, I have all I need to complete the case”, he said, and he sounded almost rueful. “Though as so often, delivering justice will be.... difficult.”

“I have faith in you”, I said, before I could stop myself. 

I wondered if I should open my mouth wider, so I could get the other foot in whilst I was at it. He smiled at me, and hailed a passing cab for us. The ride back to Baker Street was silent, but it was a strangely comfortable silence.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

I was delayed the following morning and only reached Baker Street moments before Lestrade.

“What did you find out?” he asked eagerly. Holmes hesitated.

“I would like to ask you a question”, he said slowly. “What is your personal opinion of the two constables who found the body, Prescott and Beckett? Be assured that it will not be repeated outside these four walls.”

Lestrade was clearly surprised at the question and had to think for a moment.

“Only what their own sergeant, Woolston, told me”, he said. “Beckett is ambitious and wants promotion whilst Prescott is, he thinks, marking time until something better comes along. Their beats are next to each other and Beckett got his injury during a burglary recently. Both pretty average bobbies.”

Holmes nodded at that.

“And your gut feeling still says that Mr. Albert Stevens did not kill Colonel Chancellor?” he said.

Lestrade nodded. 

“Was Stevens searched when he was questioned at the station in Mortlake?” Holmes asked.

“Both times”, Lestrade smiled. “Of course his lawyer got all uptight about it, but then they always do.”

“Who searched him?” Holmes asked.

Lestrade had to consult his case notes which Holmes had asked him to bring.

“Beckett and Prescott did it the first time”, he said. “They found nothing. The second time the lawyer was there, and he insisted the sergeant examine the clothes in his presence. Woolston took them into another room but he too found nothing.”

“Did you check as to whether Mr. Darius Chancellor had an alibi?” I asked.

Lestrade nodded.

“Not for the first murder – he was at home all day – but for the second he was visiting a friend in Barnet, and they swear that he stayed there all day”, he said ruefully. “Pretty reliable friend too, worse luck. Mr. Chancellor was at home when his father was murdered but in the outside greenhouse, and says he heard nothing. I went there myself and he may be telling the truth; it backs right onto the river and I doubt I could have heard a shot inside the house, let alone in the study which is right round the other side.”

“Friends can lie”, I muttered.

Holmes sighed heavily and, to my surprise, looked at me.

“I do not think that the good doctor will be happy with what may result from what I about to tell you”, he said to Lestrade, “but my inquiries have revealed that your gut feeling was quite correct. Mr. Albert Stevens did not kill Colonel Chancellor.”

“But the lavender!” I objected.

“It was that particular herb which suggested the identity of the real murderers”, my friend said.

“More than one?” Lestrade exclaimed.

“Constables Prescott and Beckett”, Holmes said.

There was a stunned silence before Lestrade found his voice.

“Impossible!” he snorted. Holmes leaned forward. 

“When the two constables took Stevens in for questioning the first time”, he began, “they already knew the fundamentals of the case against him. He had, as they saw it, motive to kill three men for their cruel and malicious judgement against his father. After the first death, anyone who knew anything of the matter would assume that he would move on to kill the other two colonels. The constables could not know at the time of the letter showing that Colonel Chancellor had demurred at the sentence, which fact you yourself told us only came to light _after_ the trial. It also explains Watson's point as to why the Essex murder took place between two in the same Surrey street; because the second Surrey murder was never to happen.”

“On the twenty-second Stevens kills Mallow, the architect of his family's ruin, and naturally he is brought in for questioning. I think that Beckett was the driving-force behind this and his friend went along with it because that, after all, is the police way – to protect each other regardless. Beckett expects that Stevens will strike at the other two colonels, but he also knows that the man is, after all, a trained killer. It is highly unlikely that he will be caught.”

“Beckett plans it well. During the search of Stevens' clothes at the station he spots and removes a distinctive button for use later. He is fortunate that the house of Colonel Chancellor is on his beat, so he keeps an eye on it for when the attack happens.”

“On the twenty-fourth Stevens kills Colonel Sackburgh up in Essex. This doubtless worries Beckett; as Watson rightly said, surely Stevens would strike at the two men close together one after the other. Why has he gone all the way to Essex when a target is close at hand? Still, Beckett waits for his return and the third murder.”

“But as we know, Stevens does not attack again. Time drags on, and it becomes clear that, for whatever reason, Colonel Chancellor is to be spared. That does not suit Beckett at all; his future promotion prospects hinge on a successful arrest of a guilty killer on his patch. The colonel must die.”

I stared in shock. Killing an innocent man just for a chance of promotion? Holmes continued with his tale.

“He gets hold of Stevens' statement from the second murder and sees an opening. The man had no alibi because he always goes fishing in a quiet spot by the canal near his house every Saturday. So he will have no alibi for the coming weekend. The long delay between the second and 'third' murder is irritating, but he hopes that it will go unnoticed. More significant things have when the police are being pushed to achieve a result.” 

“On the fateful day Beckett and Prescott go to Montacute House, and are of course admitted. Prescott shoots the colonel with the same type of gun that they know Stevens possesses, a sprig of lavender is left, and the button is placed underneath the body. There was, as you yourself said, scorching around the bullet wound. That would have only happened if the killer had been exceptionally close to the colonel, and the only people he would allow to do that would be either family or someone apparently trustworthy. Like, say, a policeman.”

Lestrade shook his head in disbelief.

“How do you know that Prescott shot him?” he asked.

“Beckett has that arm injury”, Holmes explained, “and from the way he was struggling with his food when I observed him it was clearly his principal arm.” 

I slid a glass of whisky next to Lestrade's tea and he downed it gratefully. Then he looked at us, his eyes hardening.

“What you are saying”, he said quietly, “is that Mr. Albert Stevens Esquire is going to the gallows for a crime that he did not commit.”

Holmes looked meaningfully at me.

“True”, he said, “but the alternative is that he evades going to the gallows for two crimes that he _did_ commit. And there is always the possibility that he confesses at the last.”

Lestrade was looking at me too, now.

“What?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“You are the English conscience”, Holmes said quietly. “If you say that this must go forward, then a murderer will walk free. If you decide to say nothing, then he will be hung for a crime he did not commit. The difference between justice and the law is sometimes a wide one, my friend.”

“You are putting this on me?” I exclaimed.

“He trusts your judgement”, Lestrade said. “As do I.”

I sighed. It wasn't just Lestrade who needed a stiff drink.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Mr. Albert Edward Stevens went to the gallows at nine o'clock on a breezy Friday morning. There were no last-minute appeals or reprieves, but he did leave a signed letter confessing to the first two murders whilst repeating his denials as to the third. Based on the information Holmes had provided Constables Beckett and Prescott were charged with gross misconduct in a public office – Lestrade grudgingly conceded that there was little chance of their being convicted of murder – and were forced to quit the service. Beckett left the country for Canada, whilst Prescott sank into London's low-life and was never seen of or heard from again.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩


End file.
